


Ripe Enough

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:53:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim listens to Blair, and it benefits both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripe Enough

## Ripe Enough

by Lily

Author's website:  <http://www.geocities.com/lilyisawake/index.html>

My therapist says they're not mine, but I have a secret-- They ARE!

I'm not saying that I wrote this during Bible study yesterday, but I'm not saying that I didn't, either.

Pre-Slash

* * *

Blair leaned curiously over Jim's shoulder trying to read the file that they'd been waiting for, a file that would hopefully be the final evidence in solving a series of armed robberies. 

"Do you think you had enough garlic for lunch, Sandburg?" Jim asked with a grimace, fanning the air with his folder. 

"Oh. Sorry." Blair drew back with a big sheepish grin. "My breath, huh?" 

"Good guess." Jim opened and closed a few desk drawers until he found the one he was looking for. After a little rummaging around, he pulled out a half-eaten pack of chewing gum. "Do us all a favor," he said, handing a piece to his partner. 

Blair grumbled about the indignities of living with a Sentinel but took the suggestion anyhow. He pushed the stick of gum into his mouth and braced himself on Jim's desk with the other, still trying to get a look at the file. When he bit into the pliant texture, the sweet tart citrus flooded his mouth with saliva and nostalgia. Mango, it was mango flavored gum, and at once there was a lump in his throat almost as heavy as the one in the pit of his stomach. 

"What's wrong?" Jim couldn't miss the spike in Blair's heartbeat, not when he was so close that they were touching and even if he hadn't heard his heart lurch, he would've felt the quickening of blood through his veins, racing suddenly instead of it's usual steady flow, which he knew by heart. 

"Mangos." He pointed at the pack lying on Jim's desk. 

"What?" 

Blair shrugged. "Hey, you're not the only one who can experience sensory memory. Scent and taste are powerful triggers-" 

"-Yeah, I know, Chief. Believe me, I know." 

"Okay, right, sorry." Blair pulled up a chair next to Jim's desk and settled in, facing his curious partner. Moments like this were rare, moments when he had Jim's total and undivided attention. "I spent a winter in a village near the Jebel Maras- Sudan- when I was..." he tipped his head back, thinking. "thirteen." 

"Is this about a girl?" 

"Wh-" Blair looked startled, then aggravated. " _No_ , Jim, just- listen okay? The women of the village have a ceremonial mourning dance- the Abhia- that they do. Usually when someone dies, but sometimes when someone is betrayed or commits a particularly shocking crime. Anyhow, they do the mourning dance around a mango tree, and afterwards, they take the mangos, cut them into pieces and distribute them. Everyone takes a piece and eats it- it represents the sharing of the grief so that no one bears the burden alone." 

"And you took part in that." Jim nodded in understanding. "What..." He stopped himself, realizing that it was too intrusive to ask what they had been mourning when Blair had participated. Blair was always _more_ than forthcoming with information, and if he left out the details, it was intentional. Instead, he settled for rummaging around in the same drawer until he pulled out a mint. 

"Here," he offered and Blair took it gratefully, using the wrapper to dispose of his gum. "Ready to get back to work?" 

"I don't know, everything smell okay to you?" 

Jim took Blair's light teasing seriously and inhaled deeply. If only Blair knew what sensory memories were invoked by his very own scent. Good ones, all good, and a few private ones that belonged to Jim alone. 

"Let's get back to work." 

* * *

Jim listened to the hacking coughs coming from Blair's room and paused- again. They'd returned from Sierra Verde just two days earlier and Blair had yet to come out other than to use the restroom. And every time he'd come out, Jim had managed to just miss him. Or perhaps Blair had managed it that way. 

"You okay in there, Chief?" he asked, hovering indecisively outside his roommate's door. 

A few more hacks and then a hoarse, "fine." 

He didn't know what to do. 

Their life together had seemed so perfect until Alex Barnes came into town. Jim had gotten used to the idea of the two of them as a permanent thing- maybe that had been his mistake, assuming too much and getting too comfortable. He'd have said that he and his partner could make it through anything, but their current relationship was cold, ugly proof to the contrary. 

New frustration welled up, so bitter that he could've choked on it. He had to get out of here, away from the scene of the crime. That's what the loft felt like to him. The place where everything had gone wrong, where he'd dismissed Blair, watching the whole scene through a haze, like he was observing from a distance, watching his own body do and his own mouth say things that the real Jim Ellison would never do and say. 

He grabbed his coat on the way out, knowing that he couldn't bear to be anywhere indoors right now. Hell, he couldn't even bear to be in his own skin. 

The sun was bright and he turned up sight just to hurt somewhere other than the center of his chest. Driving wouldn't be a good idea now, so he walked. Down the stairs and out the front door, pausing briefly before choosing west. Crossing the street on Hudson, he stalked past the bakery, past the bookstore that Blair frequented, and suddenly found himself sniffing the air, a strange tingling scent that refused to give him peace... 

His steps slowed, then stopped as he turned. Because right there out on the street he could smell the tropical fragrance of mangos. 

A street vendor's stand stood not five meters away, filled with bright yellows, greens and oranges of fresh fruits and vegetables. His sight zoomed in on the sunset-painted skin of the fruit in question. Mangos were associated with Blair every time he'd seen one since the time his friend had told him about mourning dances and sweet orange fruit that he now thought of as healing. Without explanation, he found himself putting his hard-earned money into the palm of the vendor and taking the not-quite-round fruit in his hand-refusing a bag- he wanted to feel it in his hand, and turning back for home. 

* * *

His shoes and coat seemed to fall away without any effort, and before he knew it, Jim stood at the counter with the mango in one hand and a sharp knife in the other. He stroked the thick skin with his thumb - almost in apology, before pushing the blade through. Shit. The amount of resistance was more than he'd expected, and the flesh a shade lighter. He hadn't checked for ripeness; the act of spontaneity had apparently precluded any kind of sensibility. He was almost there, it would have to do for now. 

Putting two identically carved pieces and the remains on a tray, Jim went to Blair's door and knocked. 

"Yeah?" Blair sounded so tired. And he _was_ , physically, but Jim could hear the grief and weariness of his soul, as well. 

"Can I come in? I...have something for you." 

A long pause, then- "Okay." 

Since the dim light of the room showed Blair sitting cross-legged on his bed, Jim took the same position on the opposite side. The small Tiffany lamp was the sole source of illumination, but the effect was somehow perfect for the moment. When Blair had been given the lamp as a Thank You from a grateful tutoring student, Jim had scoffed and laughed. How could Blair like something so _girly_ , he'd wanted to know. But now he could see why his friend had been so enamored with the gift. The stained glass cast lovely indigo-emerald hues on the small room, transforming it from it's usual plainness to something grand. 

Blair eyed the tray and it's contents with the same curiosity he gave everything. "Nobody died, Jim," he said flatly. 

Jim decided to ignore the inaccuracy of that statement in favor of explaining. "No...but someone was betrayed." He touched his piece of fruit and picked up Blair's, holding it out to his partner. 

"Wh- at?" Blair croaked, trying to push down the fresh wave of coughing that his lungs needed. Betrayed? This was just _it_ , he couldn't take anymore. To have his own memories thrown back in his face like this- how could he _ever_ have thought that he could share something with Jim Ellison that meant anything? He struck out, hitting the fruit away, out of his shocked Sentinel's hand and watching it sail to the floor like the unclean offering that it was. 

"I didn't betray you! I was trying...all I've ever been trying to do s-since we met is help you," he cried, the frustration of three years taking its toll, finally. "Alex wasn't _anything_ to me, the dissertation is nothing, all of it...n-nothing. And now you want me to take part of _your_ grief on myself? Well forget it, Jim. I can't. I-I won't." 

Jim sat stunned. If he'd ever had any doubts about his partner's loyalties, they were gone. But Blair had it so terribly, enormously wrong. 

So wrong. 

Slowly, thinking about how to reach Blair, he picked up the mango from where it had fallen. It was dirty from the floor and he took it as his own, giving his own piece to his shaking friend. 

"I didn't mean you, Blair. _I_ betrayed _you_." His quiet admission took so much and truthfully, he'd been hoping that he wouldn't have to actually say the words. "And you've been so. You've suffered so much. I just wanted you to know that I'm here to..." he gestured at the tray he'd brought with him. "to share it, to take my part so that maybe you can start to be..." the longer he looked at Blair, the faster his partner's heartbeat became. He looked so long that he forgot what he had been saying. 

Finally Blair spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "happy?" 

It took Jim a few moments but he finally realized what he meant. "Yes," he whispered. 

White and shaking, Blair took the fruit and brought it to his lips, motioning for Jim to do the same. On the outside, he knew that he appeared broken, shaken and run down but he could feel the beginnings of spring inside and knew that what he wanted was within arm's reach. After all, he now only carried half the burden that he had just a few minutes earlier. Jim loved him, Jim would _never_ do this, never even think about doing this for anyone else. Jim could barely issue an apology to his ex-wife, but Jim had prepared this beautiful gesture to him. Blair Sandburg. 

"I'm sorry, it's not very ripe," Jim said, shyly smiling and fingering his own piece. 

"It's okay." Blair chewed solemnly, savoring the tart flavor of mango-healing. "It's ripe enough." 

**END**

* * *

End Ripe Enough by Lily: lily2332@mindspring.com

Author and story notes above.

  
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